


Bethany, Eleven Days Later

by MissIzzy



Series: Walking Behind With a Bucket [27]
Category: Iron Fist (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Reference Attempted Suicice, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Support Group
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 03:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16865239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissIzzy/pseuds/MissIzzy
Summary: When she was next able to hold a meeting.





	Bethany, Eleven Days Later

“Okay, so who’d like to start?”

Most of the faces sitting before Bethany are new to her. Not that the usual attendees missing are even all dead. She knows for a fact some of them aren’t, but for one reason or another can’t bring themselves to come here. There are probably more of those she doesn’t have confirmed too. And there are a lot of new people who need help.

But one of the familiar faces does speak up. “Hello. My name is Mark.” He remains seated, though.

“Hello, Mark.” A lot of the voices speaking the standard greeting sound relieved. In times like these, there’s always comfort in the familiar.

“I was sober,” he continues, “for one year, seven months, and three days. It was the longest time I’d managed it since I was twenty. And then…my wife, my daughter, even both our dogs. All right in front of me. My father too, I found out later that day, and my baby brother Jeremy. He was just about to graduate from Syracuse. My sister and I spent all night trying to get into contact with him; it wasn’t until the next morning we found out…” He’s coming apart, words coming between sobs, his face messy with grief. He shakes his head.

“Can you not continue right now?” Bethany asks him gently. “We can come back to you.”

“No, it’s okay, I…” He can still barely speak, but finishes. “I’ve now been sober for four days. Hardest four I’ve ever had. I don’t know if I’m going to make it until tonight.”

“Has talking about it now helped, do you think?” She really hopes his answer is yes.

But he shrugs, and says, “Maybe? I don’t know.”

That’ll have to do, and he’s visibly done talking. “All right. Thank you, Mark. Anyone want to talk next?”

It’s easier for most people, of course, once someone’s talked already, especially if you had a story like theirs, and a lot of people have stories like Mark’s today. It goes on for most of the rest of the meeting, people who were sober for weeks, months, seven years in one case. They talk about spouses, children, grandchildren, parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts and uncles, friends, pets, anyone someone could hold dear. Some people go into more detail than others. One woman just starts, “I lost…” chokes up, and skips over the rest of that part. Bethany tries not to stop them, though she really has to a couple of times.

Two people admit to suicide attempts. One of them’s tried twice. Bethany makes a mental note to try to talk privately with the latter at the end; she’s worried about what he’ll do after he leaves here.

Despite the confessions of relapses, and other things, or just of resisting temptation if they managed to, it’s really more like a grief support meeting than an addiction support meeting, but Bethany expected that. This is what these people need right now.

When they’re almost out of time, she apologetically cuts off further speeches, and says, “I’m going to try to schedule more meetings, though I don’t know if I’m going to manage it; we really should’ve had one a week ago. In the meantime, much of what you might have heard, from me or from other sources, remains true, more so than ever. Times like these are hard on everyone, and people like us have an extra source of strain. Those of you who have succumbed, don’t be too hard on yourself; rarely has your doing so been  _this_  understandable. But now you have to try all the harder, find all the reasons you still have to stay sober.

And another thing that is now even more true: you’re not alone. Whether they can bring themselves to talk about it or not, I doubt there’s soul alive on Earth right now who hasn’t lost someone they care about, at least a little. I myself have lost my sister, and the father of my son. The circumstances of our lives were such that I didn’t have much contact with either of them, but I think I’ll think about them every day for a very long time.”

Even right now, Bethany thinks if she closes her eyes, she can see Ward sitting near the back on his room, can hear Jenny’s laugh. Sometimes when she looks at her baby’s face, all she can see is Ward’s eyes, and Jenny’s nose. She’s trying not to, but she thinks only time can help there.

“For now,” she says, “We’ve got another meeting here on Monday at 6. Thank you all for coming.”

The refreshments are out there. Bethany supposes Colleen must have passed word about the meeting on to whoever coordinates them; she had to tell her, of course, because she was the only person she could find who was willing to look after the baby right now. According to her, when he went abroad with Danny Rand, Ward arranged for them to continue to be sent, even in the event of his death. Bethany didn’t entirely mind; they were godsend for her cravings more than a few times.

Most of the attendees grabbed their refreshments coming in, when she didn’t have a chance to. The man she wants to talk to is lingering inside, giving her just a minute or so to prepare herself and her words. And take a cronut and bite down. And think a little more about Ward. All she can hope was that he found peace with himself before the end.


End file.
